


achilles' last stand

by casdoms (moffwithhishead)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, M/M, Post-Season/Series 10 Finale, Season/Series 11 Speculation, s10 time stamp with s11 speculation, they cure cas of the attack dog spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4897558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moffwithhishead/pseuds/casdoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel watches him with sad, curious eyes. He’s drifting.</p><p>In and out of consciousness, in and out of the road, in and out of life, it seems. He’s drifting further and further and Cas isn’t entirely sure how to stop it.</p><p>“Dean,” he tries one day when they’re alone in the bunker. “How are you?” </p><p>“Fuckin peachy,” Dean mumbles without looking up from the gun he’s cleaning.</p><p>-------------------------------</p><p>Months later when they find Cas finally, he’s not himself. </p><p>His eyes are red and there’s blood stained on his cheeks and Dean feels like he’s gonna barf just watching him.</p><p>It’s a spell, and he knows it is, but it’s all too familiar. It’s just a few shades lighter than black and the last time he saw Cas acting this alien, looking this beaten, he lost him for almost a whole year.</p><p>It takes every ounce of strength Dean has left to not lean over and empty his stomach onto his brother’s shoes. </p><p>“Cas,” he croaks out instead, hating how rough his voice sounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	achilles' last stand

**Author's Note:**

> this happened out of nowhere last night when I was trying to go to sleep. I finished it today instead of writing a paper that I should be doing.
> 
> first part is a time stamp of sorts for s10 post 10.18 when Cas gets his Grace back. there's a quote somewhere in my deancas tag on tumblr about how a relationship is two people falling apart and staying to help put each other back together. that's kinda what they've been doing this whole time, isn't it?
> 
> title from led zeppelin's song. song in the fic is "I've been failing" by nathaniel rateliff & the night sweats. 
> 
>  
> 
>   
>  **warnings:** castiel is under the attack dog spell. mentions of leviathans, the crypt scene and the library scene.  
> 

I love him to hell and back   
and heaven and back,  
and have and do and will. 

[Sylvia Plath](http://cuddlydeans.tumblr.com/post/127973810571/i-love-him-to-hell-and-back-and-heaven-and-back)

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel watches him with sad, curious eyes. He’s drifting.

In and out of consciousness, in and out of the road, in and out of life, it seems. He’s drifting further and further and Cas isn’t entirely sure how to stop it.

“Dean,” he tries one day when they’re alone in the bunker. “How are you?” 

“Fuckin peachy,” Dean mumbles without looking up from the gun he’s cleaning.

It’s not his, not Sam’s, not Cas’ - they just found it down in the shooting range. There’s a whole room full of ammunition and Dean zeroed in on this one like it was calling to him.

Not unlike the First Blade had called to him. 

“I...” Cas closes his mouth and hesitates. Frowns down at the table. 

“I’m worried. About you.” 

Dean snorts, not entirely unkindly, shakes his head, “Join the club.” 

Castiel sighs and sits back in his chair, watching Dean move. He’s done this so many times, cleaned so many guns, that he’s not moving with purpose. He’s moving on instinct and muscle memory and it’s mesmerizing. Made even more so by the fact that Dean hasn’t looked him in the eye in three weeks. 

He doesn’t say anything. He closes his eyes and tries to relax, tries to calm his own Grace as it’s flying around in his chest, alit with concern. 

He doesn’t miss the breath Dean lets out. 

* * *

 

Dean knocks on his bedroom door later that night, his eyes on his boots.

Castiel is awake (of course he is) and sitting on his bed. It’s old and the foam has lost its memory but it’s still comfortable and of course, he doesn’t need it to sleep. It works.

“Oh,” he attempts to pretend he isn’t surprised. “Hello, Dean.” He fails. 

“I...” Dean’s frown intensifies and he kicks the floor gently, shoving his hands into his pockets.

He’s nervous about something.

Castiel sets the book he’s been reading down, gesturing carefully towards the bed, “Would... you like to sit?” 

Dean stays motionless in the doorway. His jaw clenches. 

“I can assure you, I don’t bite.” 

That manages to get a small smile and Castiel lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Dean still doesn’t move though, his eyes stay rooted to the spot on the floor he’s picked. Cas pretends that doesn’t hurt as much as it does.

“Is everything alright, Dean?” 

“No,” he answers immediately. He’s bitter and angry and when he laughs, it’s broken. It sounds hollow and forced. “No, it’s - I’m - no. Not alright.” 

He hesitates for half a second before standing up and walking over to him.

“I...” Castiel flounders for a moment, his mouth hanging open with words that won’t come out. He has to take a beat to breathe before it works again. “Is there anything I can do?” 

Again, Dean laughs. Again it’s a hollow and angry sound, one that reminds Castiel of demons and monsters and a forty year mission he embarked on.

It makes his stomach turn. 

“No,” Dean bites out in between the noises, clenches his fists. “There’s nothing.”

Castiel moves on instinct and sets a hand on Dean’s right shoulder, the one that’s leaning against the doorway. 

He ignores the flinch it earns and squeezes gently, “Okay.” 

They stand there like that for a while, not speaking. It’s odd but it’s not uncomfortable and Castiel smiles when he feels Dean’s hand wrap loosely around his other wrist.

He doesn’t say anything. He just exists in the same space as Dean, is grateful for his presence when he can feel how angry he is, is awed by his strength to withstand the Mark as well as he is. 

He hopes it helps make it a little easier to breathe.

* * *

 

Months later when they find Cas finally, he’s not himself. 

His eyes are red and there’s blood stained on his cheeks and Dean feels like he’s gonna barf just watching him.

It’s a spell, and he knows it is, but it’s all too familiar. It’s just a few shades lighter than black and the last time he saw Cas acting this alien, looking this beaten, he lost him for almost a whole year.

It takes every ounce of strength Dean has left to not lean over and empty his stomach onto his brother’s shoes. 

“Cas,” he croaks out instead, hating how rough his voice sounds.

Castiel meets his gaze straight on but it’s not - it’s not him. His eyes are a little bit too blank, his face is a little bit too perfectly free of emotions. It reminds him of another Cas what feels like a lifetime ago.

If he’s being honest, he remembers very little about the crypt. Maybe he suppressed most of it, maybe Cas blessedly knocked the memory out of him. He doesn’t know, isn’t sure he wants to know, but he knows this: that’s the same look Cas had when Naomi was behind the wheel. 

It’s probably the same look he had in the library. 

That time Dean  _does_  throw up.

He misses Sam’s shoes but only because his brother - his sweet, giant, idiot brother - is walking towards Cas like he’s a lion and he’s trying to tame him. His hands are up in a placating motion, his face is a tentative smile.

Cas answers with a sucker punch to the jaw. Sam goes flying across the room.

Dean pushes himself upright and looks at Cas again. He’s trying to put his Hunter Goggles on, trying to ignore how much his chest aches right now.

This time when Cas’ eyes meet his, they soften a little and - yeah, there. There’s his best friend. 

“Sam,” Castiel breathes out, his eyes widening in horror. 

Sam’s fine, more-or-less, just a lot bruised and probably a minor concussion.

Dean steps closer to Cas with more intent than Sam had, “Cas. Look at me.” 

He does and it’s - it’s not promising. 

He doesn’t want to know if Cas’ eyes glossing over again is because of the spell or his own anger or anger that the spell is magnifying, declaring Dean a target. He just wants to save him.

“Sam,” Dean barks as he steps into a defensive position. “The spell. Do it.” 

Cas lunges at him and Dean dodges it, grabbing his friend by the back of his trenchcoat. It comes off of him easily and Dean yelps when Cas is back on him immediately, throwing his arm out with purpose. 

He barely, just  _barely_ , manages to dodge the hit. 

Sam’s groggily reading the spell they found from the floor. He’s got a small pile of the ingredients they need and jesus, the man has made salads faster than he’s doing this. 

“SAM!” Dean growls when Cas makes contact with his stomach, doubling over for a second.

He catches the next punch that’s thrown and manages to flip Cas so he’s laying on the ground below him. He pins him down without thinking about it, grabbing both wrists and clinging to them tightly. It makes his stomach lurch.

He’s not going to make Cas go through this  _again_. 

“Hey,” he barks, trying to get Cas’ attention. He’s struggling and jesus, he’s still strong as an ox but Dean’s still got some remnants of demon and the Mark in him and he’s barely holding on. “CAS!” 

Sam yells the last part of the spell and suddenly the room is full of smoke.

Dean feels like he’s hacking up a lung and he has to let go of Cas’ wrists to cover his face after a moment. He can hear Sam a few feet away doing the same thing.

It takes a few minutes for the smoke to clear but when it does, Cas is staring up at Dean and this time it’s really him. It’s really Cas. 

He looks somewhere between heartbroken and terrified and he sounds awful when he asks, “Dean?” 

He’s never moved so fast in his life. 

* * *

 

Sam helps Cas to the Impala after he passes out.

Dean sits by the trunk with his head in between his knees and his hands covering his ears. They saved him which is good. That’s all Dean wanted.

But now? Now he’s faced with the reality of the last time he saw his best friend.

Now he’s faced with what the Mark made him do, what he chose to do and the ways it hurt one of the most important people in his life.

He might throw up again.

Sam comes around after a few minutes and wordlessly hands Dean the medical bag from the glove box. He pretends not to notice when his big brother digs a pill bottle out of it and swallows two of them dry.

“You good?” He asks after a moment, still watching the dead country road.

“Yeah,” Dean lies, his voice rough. “I’m good.” 

He stands up and has to take a moment to breathe before handing Sam the bag again and wordlessly getting into the passenger seat.

He keeps his eyes on the road and doesn’t look at the back seat, doesn’t look at Cas. Sam dutifully pretends he doesn’t notice the way Dean’s fidgeting as he turns up the radio.

> _Now that all seems dark and light has gone away_  
>  I’ve been out there bending in the wind  
>  Now I’m standing here to be beside you  
>  And for all I know and all I care

* * *

 

Dean avoids Cas over the next few days while he recovers.

He still has his Grace so it’s not like he’s in critical condition. The wounds are more mental than physical and Dean’s still trying to reconcile his own issues with the last two years. 

He makes dinner and leaves some outside of Cas’ room every night. He leaves some fresh sheets one night, still warm from the drier. He makes coffee every morning and leaves it there with the disgusting creamer he knows that Cas likes. It’s pumpkin flavored and it tastes like liquid sugar.

Sometimes Cas accepts these things, sometimes he doesn’t. Dean takes what’s left and tries not to take it personally. 

On the fourth night Cas is home Dean is hiding in his room and reading a shitty pulp fiction novel he found in the library a few months ago and never got a chance to read.

They should be working on the Darkness some more, and they’ve both been researching, but there’s not a lot to go on. 

Dean looks up when he hears someone knock on his door and he feels his heart leap into his throat when he sees Cas standing there.

He’s wearing an old pair of sweatpants that Dean is pretty sure are his and a t-shirt Dean’s never seen before. 

“Uh,” he manages to choke out after a second, ignoring his heart hammering in his chest. “Hey.” 

Castiel doesn’t look at Dean and doesn’t respond, just keeps his eyes on the ground. Dean knows that look. He hates that look.

“Do you...” he trails off for a second, unsure of what to do.

“You good?” 

Castiel huffs a laugh, his face twisting into a bitter smile, “No.”

He manages to straighten himself up and looks in Dean’s direction. Dean’s pretty sure he’s staring at the spot to the left of his head because it’s the same thing he’s doing. 

“I’m...” Castiel looks down at the floor again, his expression changing to a frown. “I’m definitely not good.” 

Dean nods and sets his book down, swallowing nervously. 

God, he’s so out of his depth here with the talking thing. It feels like that episode of Buffy when the Gentlemen stole everybody’s voices and Dean’s trying -  _fuck_ , he’s really trying here - to tell Cas something. No sound is coming out.

“I,” he manages to croak out after what feels like an eternity. “I - can I -”

He feels like he’s going to throw up.

Castiel’s lips curl up into a small, sad smile, and he shakes his head, “No. I don’t think so.” 

Again, Dean nods. He sits for a beat before running his hand through his hair, “Cas, I...” His mouth opens to say it, to say the apology that he thinks he needs more than Cas does but again, nothing happens. 

“Dean,” his best friend interrupts him and steps into the room. “Please don’t.”

A shot of bravery makes him get up and walk over to Cas, stopping a few feet away from him.

“Okay.” 

They stand there for a few minutes, not looking at each other. Eventually Cas sighs and walks past Dean, purposefully brushing their hands together as he goes to sit on the bed.

Dean turns slowly, watching him with concern written all over his face.

He moves over to the bed eventually and sits down as far away from Cas as he can.

He wants to pull him into a hug or at least hold his hand and tell him that it’s okay, that Cas did nothing wrong. He wants to tell him that he’s not a bad person for the things that the spell made him do. He wants to believe it for the both of them.

Instead he leans back against the headboard and closes his eyes and just breathes.

Maybe he can’t do this things, for a lot of reasons, but he can do this. He can do the same thing that Cas has done for him time and time again and sit next to him. He can exist in the same space with Cas for as long as he needs.

A silent reassurance that no matter what, he’s gonna be there when he needs him.

Cas lets out a breath and melts into the mattress.

Dean smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> [read and reblog it on tumblr.](http://cuddlydeans.tumblr.com/post/130139376742/22k-s10-time-stamp-s11-theorizing-they-find)


End file.
